


A Path of Stars

by perspi



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Community: sticksandsnark, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-16
Updated: 2009-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perspi/pseuds/perspi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She sees how he wants but does not believe he can have, and she aches with more than want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Path of Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishie/gifts).



> For **ishie** , for **sticksandsnark** 2009\. Her prompt: "Smut! If it's of the fumbling, laughing, joyous kind, I will love you forever." I hope you like it, darling--I really enjoyed writing it! Thanks as always to my First Readers, especially **blackmare_9** , **nightdog_barks** , and **friendshipper** for their most helpful feedback.

Enzyme burning, worst at night, humming through her veins like fire--makes her restless, makes her _hungry_. But not starved, no, never _that_ ; she craves human touch and male scent and clean sweat: she wants, she wants.

She finds him easily, towel-clad and fresh from the washspring he hesitates but he knows, he knows; he feels the same burn--more, without the daily physical training she uses to wear hers away. His hands flutter, as always when he's nervous, but his eyes focus, firelighter-sharp, right where she wants them, his gaze a caress as she thumbs open the tabs of her vest.

She can see how he wants to talk, how much effort it's costing him to keep silent, how he wants but does not believe he can have, and she aches with more than want.

Two steps and it's pale skin to touch, warm and just wet enough to drag under her fingertips, against her nipples--she won't step away while she peels herself naked, it feels too _good_. With her tongue she chases the salt tang from the spring along his neck, under his jaw, to hear him moan beneath her lips, and pulls at the towel until there's naught between them.

Sparks along skin, electric with heat and power in thigh against thigh, in the intimate curve of belly against belly. Breath eddies behind her ear, down her shoulderblade before he kisses a path of stars into the hollow of her neck.

Air beneath her feet; he is strong and broad and lifts her easily until he can slide inside, solid and thick between her legs. She wraps legs and arms around him, the two of them enzyme-strong and steady, and holds on, short hair prickling her fingertips, foreheads touching, breathing panting breath until he steals it, capturing her with lips and tongue.

Push and pull and grind, heat and sweat and sound slake her thirst, fill her until she's humming with a different need, singing from her spine to her curling toes. Until she lights like tinder, flaring heat and sweat and bearing his name on her breath.

  


* * *

  


Rodney doesn't meet them when they return to Atlantis. After he crashes their infirmary visit, Teyla allows Rodney several days' space; several conversations with Kate and Elizabeth have revealed that Earthers can be somewhat...awkward regarding sex.

She loses patience, though, when there's an obvious space at the breakfast table for a fourth day. John frowns in a generally confused way but doesn't question it aloud, not yet; Ronon notices and snorts into his coffee. Teyla decides she will mention how she heard Ronon crooning _pas-aa_ during their captivity at their next sparring practice. Perhaps she will even be kind and wait until after she's wiped the floor with his hair.

After the nightfall meal, Teyla ambushes Rodney between the mess hall and the labs, pulling him into a transporter before he can draw breath to argue.

"Teyla!" he exclaims and makes no move to exit the transporter, even though the doors have opened. "Um, hi?"

She slides her hand palm-to-palm with his, and he only needs one tug to get him moving with her down the hall. "I have missed you, Rodney," she says with a smile.

His mouth works open and closed, once, before he stutters to life. "Yes, well, we were gone a long time, you know, I mean, of course you know, you were _there_ , and it really wasn't that long, as these things go, but it was long enough for the labs to get utterly out of control and only reinforces how vital it is that I'm--" he pauses for breath and finally looks where Teyla has led him, "--in your room. This is--"

Teyla doesn't let go of Rodney's hand; it is warm and comforting, curled around her own even as the rest of him radiates distress. "I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable, Rodney," she tells him.

"Uncomfortable?" He _pishes_ softly. "No, no, of course I'm not _uncomfortable_ ; why would I be uncomfortable?"

She allows herself to hope, just a little, and says, "Then you do not feel that sex between us is...problematic?"

"No, no," he says quickly, pulling his hand away and shaking his head, "no problem at all, why, what, oh, God, there's a problem, isn't there? I mean, there isn't any logical reason why there should be a problem, we were both _drugged_ so we can just pretend it never happened, and then--"

"So avoiding me is pretending it never happened?" Teyla asks, and he stops up short.

Rodney looks stunned, and for a fleeting moment profoundly hurt, before he ducks his head and looks at the floor. "No, I just needed...I can pr-- I'll be at breakfast tomorrow," he says quietly, and turns toward the door.

She catches his arm easily; the small room has kept them close. "Rodney," she says just as softly, giving his name as much tenderness as she feels. "There was a reason I chose to come to you."

"Yes, well, drugs will do that," he replies sourly. He looks at her, his face hiding nothing. "Look, I know you don't feel the same; let's just put it down to cultural differences and it's back to normal in the morning."

She brings her hands up to hold his face between them and looks him steadily in the eyes. "I know you do not hear this often, so I hope you will listen carefully: You are wrong, Rodney."

Teyla kisses him, short and sharp and intent. He is slack-jawed and speechless for a bare moment, and she allows herself a wide smile.

"You. Really?" At her nod, he grins and bends forward in an attempt to kiss her again, but they tilt at awkward angles and end up bumping noses and foreheads painfully.

She can't stop the giggle that escapes.

He groans a little, and says apologetically, "I was better at this with the drugs."

"No, Rodney," Teyla says happily, " _we_ are better at this _now_."


End file.
